


Like I Blister in the Sun

by getyouwhateverthepayne



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst, Love, M/M, i guess??, idk where this came from, more a drabble than a oneshot lmao, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:23:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1986279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getyouwhateverthepayne/pseuds/getyouwhateverthepayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you die, you stick around for a while. You hover, fill the same places, but you don’t stay the same. When you finally change enough to not be you, that’s when you leave.</p>
<p>Until then, Zayn can make Harry real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like I Blister in the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> idk
> 
> i wrote this in (count it) 9 minutes and didn't edit it except for spelling etc. pls dont judge me lmao
> 
> my main tumblr is [donechapel](http://www.donechapel.tumblr.com) and my writing one is [getyouwhateverthepayne](http://www.getyouwhateverthepayne.tumblr.com) :-)
> 
> also since this only took me 9 minutes here are the 3 songs i listened to: [x](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-N3BjVMWziE) [x](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vh9FfmMN-ik) [x](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8YdQBkxf4kU) (where i got the title lol)

“Do you ever feel so tired,” he asks, “it feels like your eyelids are burning? Because mine are.”

“No.”

+

“I want you to see me.”

“I do.”

“I want you to touch me.”

+

“I think it’s nice out today,” he says. “The trees are so green.”

“Let's just stay here, yeah? You can see the painting I'm working on.”

"Is it of me?" Harry giggles. Zayn doesn't answer, because it is. Harry just sighs and continues watching Zayn make a cup of tea. The kettle whistles a few minutes later.

+

On Thursday night he stumbles through his door, keys falling from his hand. There’s a drip of blood shaping his mouth and dripping off his chin.

“Zayn?” he asks suddenly, his hands fluttering around his face, eyes huge with horror. “What happened?”

“Mugged. I’m fine, Harry. I've still got it.” He sees the way Harry stops, the way he looks at the nondescript paper package held tightly in Zayn’s hand.

“Are you sure it will work?”

“Yeah.”

“Now we can be together?”

“For a while.”

+

He still looks a little jumpy, his neck twitching a bit, like he doesn’t have complete control over his body yet. “Do you think it will last?” he asks quietly. He clenches and unclenches his hands repeatedly, in awe.

“A few hours, she said.”

He presses a hand to his chest. “I can feel a heartbeat,” he breathes. “Come here, feel.” Steadily, Zayn takes a step closer and places his hand over Harry’s. “Can you feel it?” he asks.

“Almost.”

+

The television’s on. “I’d really like to go somewhere,” he says. He’s sitting next to Zayn, and it would look like he’s really there if it weren’t for the fact that the couch cushions don’t dip down under his weight.

“No.”

“We could go for a drive? I think it’s nice out today.”

It’s pouring, dark and ominous, rain lashing the windows. The traffic below is a muted, slushy rush. Harry keeps looking at Zayn.

“No. We can’t. Let’s just stay in.”

"I just feel like I need to leave," Harry pushes one more time. "Get out, you know?"

"Not really."

+

“This is amazing,” he breathes again, staring at his hands as they hold Zayn’s. “How long did she say it would last again?”

“Just a few hours.”

“Thank you.” Harry presses a soft kiss to Zayn’s cheek, lets it linger, and both of them breathe in the scent of rosemary and thyme and dandelions and something else, a little sour. “This is amazing,” he repeats, his eyes big and starry. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

+

Harry floats in through Zayn’s bedroom door and stops at the edge of his bed. “Good morning,” he says quietly, adjusting his heavy cardigan that falls down to his knuckles. His voice is heavy, too.

Zayn slowly blinks his eyes awake. His eyelids feels so dry they’re burning. He doesn’t remember what happened last night.

“Harry?” he asks, because the boy isn’t smiling like he usually does. In fact, his face is drawn, hollow, and his eyes are no longer starry.

“Why’d you do it?” he asks again, tears brimming up. “Why’d you do this, Zayn?”

“I don’t…” 

Then Zayn looks down at himself, and he sees the bedsheets through his abdomen, sees the way the bed doesn’t dip down under his weight.

“Why, Zayn?”

He looks up to see Harry crying now, his frustration overwhelming, his sorrow souring his rosy cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

Harry rushes out of the room.

+

When you die, you stick around for a while. You hover, fill the same places, but you don’t stay the same.

After a few months, Zayn begins to notice it. When Harry stretches his neck to the side, quickly, then stills himself just as suddenly and glances to see if Zayn was watching. That’s when Zayn thinks he sees someone else in there.

When you finally change enough to not be you, that’s when you leave.

+

“Harry?” Zayn asks one morning, a few months later, because he hears some sort of sound by his apartment’s front door. He doesn’t know why he thinks it’s him, because ghosts don’t make noise, and the only sound of late were the landlords cleaning out his flat of furniture, but maybe some part of him still thinks they’re both alive, living together. Fighting over broken toasters and getting drunk while eating chicken parmesan. Laughing over late night television and the neighbors downstairs.

But Harry never makes noise anymore, and their conversations are always just thoughts. Recently, there have been fewer conversations.

When he moves quietly into his main room, he sees a couple and another young woman in a business suit staring objectively at his flat.

“So what do you think?” the woman asks, a bright smile on her face, motioning to the empty space.

“I heard there was a story to this place,” the man asks nervously. “A couple lived here?”

Zayn watches as the woman’s bright face turns to a scowl. “Oh, yes,” she finally says. “One was an artist, I think, the one who owned the place. They were in love,” she says delicately. “When one overdosed, the other couldn’t live with it. A few months later he…well. You know.”

Zayn frowns when he sees the looks on the couple’s faces. She’d made it sound petty, unimportant, wrong. 

The windows rattle. The real-estate agent covers it with a laugh.

“I know it isn’t the best story, but the appliances really are top of the line. Here, I’ll show you the full bathroom, it’s got a beautiful view of the city…” The woman leads them through Zayn’s shadow and into his empty room, going towards the bathroom on the other side.

He closes his eyes. They’re burning.

+

When Zayn finally feels himself start to drift, he's watching the couple watch television and laugh over take-out on their new couch that's just slightly to the left of where it should be. It's a strange feeling. Like he's just walked into a room and forgotten why he'd gone in.

He pauses for a minute, a few hours later, when his mind starts to empty, when he realizes he's forgotten what Harry smelled like, what his eyes looked like, the beat of his heart. 

His eyes are so tired they're burning. He wants to sleep.

He feels his neck twitch, his fingers tremble. Sometimes his hand will shimmer away entirely, before catching on a bit of moonlight. 

His eyes are so tired they're burning. He wants to sleep.

A few hours later, he finally leaves.

+

**Author's Note:**

> im at [donechapel](http://www.donechapel.tumblr.com) and [getyouwhateverthepayne](http://www.getyouwhateverthepayne.tumblr.com)
> 
> pls pls pls let me know what you think!! this was kind of an exercise for me bc i have trouble just writing w/out stopping so
> 
> this was me writing w/out stopping
> 
> thank u 4 reading!!!!!!! tell me what u think!


End file.
